(A/N: Here we are! Chapter one. I'm uploading this at the same time as the preface, as I wrote them together. So, nothing really to say! Dive in. Hope it's at least entertaining!)

CHAPTER I

SAUT DANS LE VIDE

Love, love is the warmest color.
Petrol blues, hallelujah, hallelujah, comes.
Saut dans le vide, my lover.
In my youth, the greatest tide washed up my prize:
You.

Alt-J, "Nara"
This is All Yours

Like most things in his life, Nico didn't plan for this.

He didn't plan to be woken up at two in the morning before graduation day, back drenched in sweat and heart palpitating, to a crash of thunder just outside his house. The rain bore down on the window next to his bed with such intensity and swiftness that he could barely make out the shed outside, painted a flaking red with a white roof, weathered by the elements.

The tree branch with his childhood tire swing had been entirely obliterated by (what must have been) a bolt of lightning, and laid horizontally against the grass, the milky rope coiled limply atop the dark tire. That branch hung on by barely a splinter of wood to the trunk of the tree.

Something small and black shuffled around outside by the edge of the shed.

Bailey.

He certainly didn't plan for the dog to somehow claw her way through the flimsy, boarded-up doggy door (which Nico knew he should have done himself) and meander out into a thunderstorm. She was usually a little scaredy-cat when it came to the rain, refusing to even pee outside when it wasn't so much as drizzling out. Maybe he didn't have the highest opinion of his stepdad's mutt, but there was no way she could be that dumb.

Nico quickly threw on yesterday's shirt and jeans, shoved neatly into the corner of his room, and jogged down the steps, trying to keep a light gait so as to not wake up his mom and Arnold. Not only was his mother probably still a little drunk, but his stepdad would probably throw a fit and begin hammering the doggy door closed again, and Nico actually planned to go back to sleep after this nonsense.

He finally reached the back door and kneeled down to tie his right sneaker. A cold nose prodded at his elbow. Without really thinking about it, Nico reached over and scratched the dog behind her ear as he put on his left shoe.

Nico stopped before he could even make the first loop of his shoelaces.

Bailey sniffed at his hair, her stupid tail wagging back and forth, smacking the side of the house as though she wanted to see just how loud she could get before mommy and daddy woke up. Nico's eyes fell to the doggy door: Arnold's shoddy boarding job was intact. Not a single nail was loose.

"Coyote?" he whispered to Bailey. Predictably, she didn't respond.

He stood, and glanced outside the window. As expected, it wasn't quite clear enough to see through, but there was definitely a black mass hanging out in the backyard. It was probably too small to be a dog, and was twitching violently. Nico thought he caught a glimpse of two golden eyes, reflecting light back towards him.

A cat, maybe? Cats hate water. It would make sense.

Nico would have turned around and gone right back to bed, irked after having woken up and gotten riled up for nothing, if three panicked knocks hadn't sounded from the other side of the house. His eyes flickered back out the door, but he only saw shadows.

He would recognize that honk anywhere; they both had phones and could easily call each other, but Silas preferred to honk. Nico's working theory was that he did that to get Nico out the door faster, as he would try to leave the house before his mother and stepdad stumbled down the stairs, grumbling and angry.

It worked. He jogged, as silently as possible, across the living room and to the front door. Bailey sprinted to keep up, the tinking and jingling of her dog tags only adding to the ruckus. He snatched a black umbrella from the cylindrical holder by its curved, wooden handle, and opened the front door only wide enough to slip out in front of Bailey, who whined when she realized she wasn't going for a walk. "Tomorrow, okay?" he whispered to the dog before closing the door.

Nico glanced upwards. His mom's light was on. Silas honked again.

He opened the umbrella and jogged down the long driveway, closing it as he slid into the front seat of Silas's pickup.

"You are awake," he said, throwing the truck into reverse.

Nico paused to put his seatbelt on. "What would you have done if I wasn't?"

"Waited." Silas paused. "Why are you awake?"

He scoffed back at his childhood friend. "Why are you awake, dude? We have to be up at, like, eight tomorrow."

"Can't sleep," Silas mumbled.

Upon further examination, Nico decided he was telling the truth. His usually smooth and styled dirty blond hair was sticking out at all ends, and purples and blues bruised him beneath his dark brown eyes. It was then that he remembered Silas used to have this unreasonable fear of thunderstorms; he wasn't hiding under the bed from them anymore, but clearly their grip on him hadn't quite loosened.

Anyone else would have ignored the request to go out at two in the morning before an early start the next day, but easily Nico's biggest weakness was his inability to deny Silas anything he wanted. As much as he wanted to sleep, he wanted to make his friend happy just a little bit more.

They drove down the empty, rural road for a good minute without saying anything. The radio was off, and the only sound was the rapid sliding of the windshield wipers as they struggled to slap away the rain. Silas's brights were turned on, illuminating the old, cracked pavement.

"Something doesn't feel right," Silas finally said, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

It was a good thing Silas was driving, Nico thought, because it usually calmed him down. Something was really winding him up tonight. "It's just because we're graduating tomorrow," he told him.

"I don't think so," Silas said.

Nico sighed, and opened Silas's center console. He dug through a few fast food receipts and handwritten addresses before feeling something smooth and cool. Next to it was the unmistakable texture and weight of a plastic lighter. Grabbing both, he put the bowl and lighter in his lap as he searched the glove compartment for Silas's baggie.

"Did I offer?" he half-laughed when he saw what his friend was doing.

"It's for you, not me," murmured Nico. "You need to calm down."

As he broke apart the little bits of green herb from inside the plastic baggie and placed it in the glass pipe, a thought came to him, and he paused. "You're not upset I'm leaving town, are you?" he asked.

"Shut the fuck up. No, I'm not."

"Because I'll be less than an hour away," Nico said, letting the paraphernalia rest in his lap. "And I'll visit constantly."

"Stop."

"You'll get so sick of me."

"Shut the fuck up," repeated Silas, a grin tugging on the corners of his lips. "It's not that. Really. Something just feels weird about tonight."

Nico took a minute to stuff full the piece. It was a cool looking thing that Silas's dad got for him when he was on a trip with his girlfriend: originally clear with golden specks throughout, heavy usage darkened the pipe to a bronze-black, but the specks still glittered through the glass, like golden geodes on a cave wall.

"You okay?" Nico asked, handing Silas the pipe, "health-wise?"

"Yeah, just—"

"Watch out!"

Nico had no idea how it got there, but that fucking cat from his backyard had somehow ran all this way and dove in front of Silas's car. Its jerking, shuddering black body blended perfectly in against the pouring rain, and two glowing, yellow orbs shone back at them. It didn't have ears like a cat's, but what looked like long antennae.

Nico couldn't get a good look as Silas slammed on his brakes. The car swiveled around the cat and screeched, and he could barely get a grasp on the handle of the roof. He felt his seatbelt cutting into his clavicle, and was hit with the pungent, skunky smell of weed as every little green bit flew out of the pipe on a swerve. The tires made a scratchy sound as they struggled to find friction on the road.

Silas twisted the wheel as far left as he could to stop from driving the truck right into the dip on the side of the road, and braked quickly, sliding into the other lane until he was perpendicular with the yellow dividing line.

"What the hell was that?" Silas asked.

Nico tried to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he grabbed his umbrella and threw open the truck's door. The wind nearly shut him in; in only the five minutes since they'd left, the storm had grown more violent. Even the sky was colored a violent indigo, a vortex with a black core that was somehow blacker than all the black surrounding it.

Rain pummeled down on his umbrella with frightening intensity. Nico half-considered retreating back into the truck and having Silas take him home, but knew the cat needed help. "Come on," he said through the open door.

Silas's eyes were wide, and scared. He tried to blink away the expression, but Nico knew him better than that and wouldn't be fooled. He wasn't coming out of the storm. He feared the lightning would strike him.

"I'll be right back," he said instead, and closed the door behind him.

It was about fifty feet behind them, and hadn't moved. Silas was successful in avoiding the creature, but part of Nico thought maybe it should have died. With the rapid twitching and convulsing, there was no way that cat was healthy enough to go on living. A film formed in Nico's throat when he thought he might have to kill the cat.

"It's fine," Silas shouted from the open window. "Leave it be."

Any other day, Nico would have listened to him, but today was different. Nico knew he saw that cat before, at an impossible distance, only a few minutes ago. He jogged up to the cat, fighting against the wind that would knock him on his side. Only when Nico made it to ten feet away from the cat was when he realized it wasn't a cat at all.

This had to be a bug, or a demon, or something else entirely. Not only was it standing on two feet (which were much too big for its size), it had black claws on human-shaped hands, perfectly circular, yellow eyes on a huge head, and long, bent antennae.

It wasn't alone.

Another one of those black creatures popped up out of the woodwork; it literally seemed to form from the shadows on the pavement and emerge, like a crocodile out of water.

"Silas," Nico said in a half-shout, unconvinced that his friend would come out of the truck, even if he could hear him. Anyway, he was almost positive he was dreaming. What are the odds of so much weirdness happening in one night?

It didn't end there. Another black creature erupted from the pavement, followed by another, then another. There were ten to twelve of them before Nico could even gather himself and, as if driven by some primal need, they all darted after him, clawing, writhing.

"Stay back!" he warned, as though something so savage could ever comprehend his words, collapsing his umbrella and pointing it at the horde. This didn't faze them at all, not to Nico's surprise. When one jumped toward him, he jabbed outward with his umbrella, but somehow missed. Guarding himself with his arm in a last-ditch effort, he felt sharp claws ripping at the skin of his bicep.

The cuts were deep. Blood pooled at the surface of his skin, but was almost instantly washed away by the downpour. The pink-tinged rain dripped from his arm to the pavement, but was lost among the puddles on the ground. Nico couldn't feel any pain—not with such adrenaline coursing through his veins. He whacked again at the same creature and knew—just knew—he should have made contact, but felt nothing. It passed through the animal like thin air.

"I'm dreaming," he reminded himself.

Another creature approached, slowly, like a wild animal stalking its prey. Nico was sure he would suffer a heart attack right there, in the middle of Umber Drive, and the next day, an unsuspecting truck driver would find him, face-down in yesterday's rain, body engorged from drowning in a measly two inches of water.

Until his umbrella glowed.

After a long while in relative darkness, any intense light is absolutely blinding. For what felt like too long, Nico saw only spots of varying color, and was certain he would never see again. Slowly, he could make out the black creatures—farther away now than they had been—with their glowing yellow eyes, blurred by the rapidly pouring rain.

Nico wasn't holding his umbrella anymore.

What could only be described as a comically large key replaced it. A hilt surrounded the very end, which he held, each side meeting at the tips to form a teardrop (or perhaps a raindrop) shape. One side of the hilt was wrapped in a white ribbon of some kind, which seemed to float in the air as it slowly spiraled around the length of the key, which graduated from a deep black color at the hilt to a pale gray near the teeth. The key's teeth themselves were long and sharp, like a rake's, and seemed to emit light. Near the very tip of the key were two arrows moving along their own axis, each emerging from a ring around an arrow pointing upwards, like a weathervane. A small chain dangled from the very end, where he held the key, with a miniature compass rose at the end.

It was the most bizarre thing Nico ever held.

Whatever it was, these things didn't seem to like it.

"The fuck was that?"

Nico wasn't sure which sight was stranger: a dangerous-looking, giant key appearing in his hands, or Silas willingly weathering the storm without his truck's roof (or so much as an umbrella) to protect him. His hair browned from the wetness and curtained over his eyes.

"I don't know," Nico finally said, returning his attention to the black creatures. They got over whatever it was about the key that made them hesitate, and lunged again at Nico. They seemed to, more or less, ignore Silas completely, choosing instead to overwhelm the brunet. He did the only thing he could think to do in the heat of the moment, and defended himself with a swipe of the giant key.

It turned out it made a pretty damn good weapon—great, even. Unlike the umbrella, which somehow managed to miss each time, this key hit the big black bugs, and hit them hard. The three nearest to him went flying, but the fourth managed to sidestep his attack and lunged toward him, reaching right for his heart.

"Nico!" Silas shouted, and that's the last thing Nico heard for a long time.

xxx

"You won't do it," Silas teased, leaning back in his desk chair. The first signs of spring blanketed the earth, and a cozy warmth clung to the breeze that flowed in from his bedroom window, even with the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. A faint scent of his father's apple blossom trees followed the wind inside. He'd never admit it out loud, but the flowers made spring Silas's favorite season.

"Give me a minute," Nico urged in that squeaky voice of his. Silas was almost sure he was the last remaining boy in high school whose balls hadn't yet dropped. (To be fair, he'd remind himself, Nico was still only fourteen years old, and almost a full year younger than him.)

He had a hard time gripping Silas's dad's piece properly; just before going to light the thing, it would slip slightly and he'd have to adjust his handle all over again. He wouldn't look Silas in the eye, and tried to keep his body turned away from him.

"You're too nervous," Silas said. "You need to calm down."

"It's not easy when you're over my shoulder," his friend complained.

"Oh, like you'll be fine if I just looked away? Look," Silas reached out and snatched the glass pipe from Nico's fingers. "Finger over the choke, mouth on this end, and light it near the edges of the bowl. That's called cornering. Like this."

He demonstrated. Silas couldn't help but feel a deep pride in himself; sure, it wasn't exactly the most scholarly of pursuits, but Nico was always the one who knew more about… well, everything. Though he had only been doing this for about a month or two before Nico finally gave in and agreed to try it, it was exciting to know something he didn't.

The smoke burned the back of his throat, and he tried to not cough. After all, he had an image to uphold. He held it in his lungs for a few seconds before letting the thick, white smoke pour out of his lips and nose. Silas turned his wrist and held the mouthpiece towards Nico. The other boy's full lips parted in shock but, after a moment's hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed them against the opening in the glass.

"Breathe in," said Silas, and he did.

He could see the discomfort on his friend's face, but he wouldn't falter. Maybe Silas being better than him at something made Nico uncomfortable.

Silas took his finger off the choke, and Nico continued to inhale, filling up his lungs to capacity. He carefully withdrew the piece and watched Nico attempt to trap the smoke in his body, mimicking Silas.

"Exhale," he said, and Nico did.

He began coughing violently. Silas couldn't help himself; he laughed. His friend tried to tell him to shut up between heaving hacks, but couldn't quite get the words out. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, but he smiled as he snatched a pillow from the bed on which he sat and smothered it to his face to silence the coughing.

"That sucked," he finally said, his eyes half-open and grinning like an idiot.

"You get used to it," Silas said, taking another hit himself. "Want another?"

"No. Maybe never."

He opened his mouth to respond, but a familiar, low roar sounded throughout the house. Either his dad was home from his date, or his sister was coming by to check up on him. Either way, it reeked in his room, and he wasn't in the right state of mind to explain away any of it. "Shit," he said, "my dad's home."

Nico said, "Oh."

"It stinks in here."

His friend bit his lower lip. "Do you have air freshener?"

"No. Shit." He stood and reached to the window above his desk, and opened it the three inches more it could be opened, as if that would drain the room of its stench any faster. Of course, the wind chose this very minute to stop blowing.

"I can't get caught with weed," Nico said, his eyebrows furrowing. "My mom would kill me."

"It's fine, whatever, I've been caught before." Silas's eyes flickered across the room, as he remembered his friend's mom was quite a bit stricter than his own. He snatched the cheap bottle of cologne he got over the holidays last year and began to spray the area around his desk, and himself, all over. He then sprayed Nico, who proceeded to cough even more.

"The window," he said. "Jump out the window."

"What?" Nico asked. "It's like a fifteen-foot drop."

"You do gymnastics," he reminded his friend. He heard the echo of footsteps against laminate floor, growing louder as they approached the hallway. "You have to go, now!"

"Okay, okay!" Nico tossed the pillow to the side and stepped atop Silas's oak desk with his white and blue sneakers, and contorted his body in a way only gymnasts could to fit through his tiny window. When he reached the flat of the black roof, he stood for a second, looked back at Silas, waved, and jumped down.

Silas kneeled on his desk, in front of his window, and peered out. Nico, expectedly, had survived, and was running, full-speed, down the street in the direction of his house. Even with his long, skinny legs, it would take him at least ten minutes to get home, and his mom would wonder why he didn't ask her to pick him up, but at least he wouldn't be caught for this.

"Hey, Si," came a familiar, feminine voice. His sister opened the door, her long, blond hair tied up in a ponytail and carrying a plastic bag in her right hand.

"Hey, Sylvia," he responded. "What are you doing here?"

"Dad texted me saying he wouldn't be home until tomorrow, and wanted me to pick up some take-out for you. I got some for myself, too; thought we could catch up. Is Nico here?" She glanced around the room. "I thought I heard someone up here."

Silas shook his head. "Just me."

Sylvia sniffed the air, pale brown eyebrows knitting together. "It smells like an eighth grade locker room in here." She paused. "Are you hiding a girl?"

"What? No."

"It sounded like a girl's voice."

Silas tried not to snicker. He'd have to tell Nico that one, later. "Just me. You can search the room, Deputy Syvlia."

Silas saw her eyes flicker to the open window, and thought for sure that she would call him out, but instead said, "I'll go set up the table. I got you orange chicken. You still like that, right?"

For the first time in what felt like an hour, Silas took a nice, full breath. He nodded.

xxx

Silas didn't know what happened to Nico when that creature lunged for his chest, but he could only look on in horror. Out released some pinkish item, floating at Silas's eye level, and, as if it were never there at all, Nico's body disappeared, key and all.

He didn't know what he was doing, or why he was doing it, but Silas frantically reached for the pink mass. Silas wanted to protect it from these black things, but didn't really know what he would do as soon as he snatched it. He wrapped his fingers around the warm, pale object, and noted that it was heart-shaped. Before he had the chance to get a good look at it, it pushed its way out of his hands and toward his chest.

Like a ghost passing through a wall, it disappeared inside of him.

This couldn't be real, but it had to be. The soaking wet hair was cold against his cheeks, the thunderclaps were violent explosions in his ears, and his heart raced, raced, raced in his chest, and the flashes of lightning spotted his eyes.

Suddenly, Silas felt a weight in his hand. Nico's giant key: pointed ends, heavier than expected, and wrapped in a white strip of cloth.

He lost his footing, and nearly fell over himself. Yanking his foot back and backing up, he saw the black, yellow-eyed creatures stalking towards him. Why now? Just a moment ago, they could have been completely ignorant of his existence. Why, suddenly, did they give a damn?

The pavement cracked beneath his feet. Silas backed up a pace. It couldn't be real, but it still was; the ground was giving way beneath him, and the shadowy creatures stalking towards him slowly fell to the void as they failed to outrun the self-destructing street.

Silas shook his head, turned around, and bolted. He ran as quickly as his legs could take them, leaving even his beloved truck behind, and hearing the crunch and squeal of iron as it fell to its demise. In the sky, the swirling, violet vortex grew and grew, swallowing up the clouds, rain, and every remaining sliver of light in sight.

Ahead of him, the ground caved in. Silas hung a left, out toward the forest, but the trees bent in toward each other and splintered apart as the earth swallowed them. He turned around, and the same happened to the other side of the road. From all angles, the world was dying a crumbling death, leaving him only a patch of pavement on which to retreat, and even that felt unsteady.

Heat filled Silas's skin. His vision was sharp with adrenaline. His lips hung open as he gasped for breath, his eyes darting from one end of the expanse to the other.

Silas had not three feet on either side of him now. He knew he could either fall to his death, or jump there—either way, he would die, and nobody would know how it happened.

He held his breath, silenced his mind, and leaped.